Let Dead Men Lie
by bluelips1
Summary: Ginny is just getting over the devastation of the war when life throws her a curve ball. Rebuilding her life has been hard enough, can she cope when her tender teenage love rears its head once again? GM/DM
1. Facing the World

**Disclaimer: **I don't own these characters, they are the works of JK Rowling

**Let Dead Men Lie - 01 Facing the World**

* * *

Any time you are faced with intense, gut-wrenching sorrow, the world feels like an unfriendly place. Finding solace with friends and family can only give you so much, because everyone feels the same. You can see it in their faces. The light goes out. But as time goes on, which it is often prone to doing, there come moments when the world isn't so dark. These moments, although few and far between, they persist. Until finally there comes a time when you couldn't wallow any longer, when you square your shoulders and face the world.

This was her time. Yes, there was going to be an empty space in her heart, when you lose someone you love there always will be. But the time for her heartache has passed. The war is over, the battle that scarred the grounds of Hogwarts long gone cold. Let the dead men lie, and let them lie in peace.

She had come a long way from the little girl taking her first steps into Hogwarts, looking up in awe. No longer was she the innocent girl who was abused so viciously by a possessed diary, the old nightmares had been replaced by new ones. She was a little wiser, a little more jaded. She had stood on the ruins of her burning castle. She had found tentative, blossoming love; and then lost it as his platinum blonde hair brought her castle crashing down.

But this is HER time, her time for growth and healing. What better time to start then now? That and her bladder was uncomfortably full.

Ginny opened her eyes, reluctant to leave the warm cocoon of her thoughts. She found herself instantly regretting the decision when two round orange orbs peered eagerly into her face, followed by an assault of warm cat breath.

"Crooks, get off. I don't love you that much." The cat had taken to sleeping on her arm, and she had woken numerous times with pins and needles. Damn fat bastard needed to lose weight if he was going to continue this habit. Ginny propped herself up, encouraging the cat to move with her shoulder. It worked, and he moved. Slightly. Just enough to channel his full weight into one paw, (strategically?) placed on her underarm.

"Ow! Get off, you lug!" Ginny sat up, casting a glance on the clock. "Every morning, you dick head. Am I not allowed to sleep past 6 am?" The cat threw her a reproachful look before slinking around her door, probably sulking about being unceremoniously pushed off the bed.

She got up, threw on some shorts and ventured out of her room. Hermione was already up; she could hear the radio humming quietly in the kitchen. Ducking into the bathroom to relieve herself, Ginny peered into the mirror. This is the day, she repeated her mantra of the morning. This is YOUR time.

* * *

"Do you ever sleep?" Ginny asked as she wandered into the kitchen.

"Good morning to you too, there's fresh coffee in the pot," Hermione was leaning against the counter, eagerly perusing the morning paper.

"No, seriously, do you? I know I'm not awake by any notion of my own" Ginny threw a glare at the ginger bastard hiding behind his mother's legs. "Someone," she added pointedly, "needs to keep her cat in her room for the sanity of her roommate"

Hermione rolled her eyes without breaking concentration of her paper. "Gin, he is not that bad"

"His breath is that bad." Ginny grumbled under her breath as she poured a cup of coffee. Hermione may be a little neurotic sometimes, but damn did she make a good coffee. Probably because she could be bothered to clean the filter, something Ginny really didn't worry about.

Heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway. Hermione finally looked up, shooting Ginny an apologetic wince. "Harry stayed the night, I hope that's okay. I didn't think to tell you last night because I didn't think you'd be up so early on your day off."

"Of course it's okay. Why wouldn't it be?"

"Well… I just…" Hermione trailed off as a dishevelled man joined them in the kitchen.

"Morning Ginny" Harry said gruffly, reaching past her for the coffee pot.

"Morning. How'd you sleep? Hope the couch wasn't too lumpy this time?" She kept her tone light, not betraying the slightly vicious thoughts running through her mind.

"Slept in Mione's bed actually. So yeah, wasn't too bad" Harry threw a salacious wink at Hermione, an action that didn't escape Ginny's notice. The vicious thoughts got a little bigger.

"Right," She downed the rest of her coffee. "Well, if you two don't need the bathroom for anything, I think I'll shower." She put her cup in the sink, perhaps using a little more force than required, and followed Crookshanks out of the kitchen. "Don't look at me like that, fatty. Go beg your mum for food" Ginny said as she gathered a towel from the linen cupboard. The ginger cat wove between her legs. "Crooks, really? You're going to watch me shower _again_?" She wined as he darted into the bathroom. Rolling her eyes, she shut the door behind her. Ginny stripped and stood naked under the warm yellow light. Crookshanks curled up in the pool of discarded clothes. "Fine, whatever, you perv" She mumbled as she assessed at her reflection, a daily habit.

Red hair fell in unruly waves to her collarbones, pale shoulders sprinkled with freckles. Ginny ran her hand over the shadow of ribs. Not as prominent as usual? She frowned, allowing her hand to fall to her hip bone. Definitely not as prominent as usual... What had she eaten yesterday? Nothing out of the ordinary, she was sure. Damn it, how did this happen? She was always careful with what she ate, always weighing up the options. Ginny stepped into the shower, doubting herself. If she couldn't control something so simple, what hope did she have with her job? The job was literally classified as 'chaotic'.

It was only after the hot water pounded on her back that Ginny allowed herself to relax a bit. She attributed her slight (and it could only be slight) weight gain to a lapse in her strict routine. Work was preventing her from doing her nightly exercises so rigorously, she was just too exhausted after her shift. Dilemma answered, she turned her thoughts to the debacle in the kitchen. Fucking Harry. He'd changed since destroying Voldemort. A decorated hero, saviour of the wizard world, he could have had anything. He was employed by the Ministry of Magic for a couple of months, before walking out without notice. He took up a new past time with his unemployment, and spent many hours with the drunkards at the local pub. That alone was enough to made Ginny's blood boil. The icing on the cake was their failed relationship.

Looking back on it now, she didn't really think that she was ever quite in love with him. If anything, it was the pressure of their friends pushing them together, before and after the war. If the war hadn't happened, then Ginny had severe doubts things would have unfolded the same way. But the war did happen, and suddenly everything was slipping through her fingers. Then Fred was snatched from her life… And all she could do was cling to something familiar. Then, more than ever, she needed physical contact to drown out the overwhelming darkness. Harry was there; he was warm, he was safe, and he was alive. When she didn't need him physically anymore, they both withdrew into themselves to cope with their losses. In retrospect, that was probably the start of his depression. He refused help from everyone, preferring to drown his demons. So she left, not wanting to see him destroy himself. He quit his job, living off his inheritance, living with her family because they could never turn him away. And then he quit them too, getting his own place. Hermione was really the only one who stuck by him after that, Ron drifting by every now again.

Ginny snapped out of her thoughts, not knowing how long she'd been in the shower for. She stepped out, water pooling at her feet. Her skin was steaming and scalded pink, but she didn't feel the heat. Wrapping a towel around her naked body, and tugging her clothes from under the cat, Ginny walked back to her room. She ignored the murmuring and giggling from behind Hermione's closed door.

Throwing her clothes in the laundry hamper on the way past, Ginny noticed a small owl perched on her window sill. Groaning in anticipation, Ginny grabbed the letter it was ferrying.

_Ginerva – So sorry to disturb you on your day off. We really need you here, I wouldn't write if we weren't desperate! Can you come in for a few hours? - Polly_

Ginny swore under her breath. "You have got to be kidding me," she grumbled as she rummaged for her uniform.


	2. The Best Laid Plans

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything, this is JK Rowling's world

**Let Dead Men Lie – 02: The Best Laid Plans**

* * *

Ginny Aparated into the staff break room at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries with a sharp _CRACK_, smoothing her lime green robes as she mentally prepared herself for what was probably going to be a long and tiring shift. She walked into the adjoining reception hall, and was astounded to see that it wasn't as busy as she'd expected - there were only a handful of wizards and witches gathered in the waiting room. Her eyes rested on a small raven haired boy seated next to a particularly harassed looking woman, dejectedly pouting as he fiddled with the tentacles sprouting on his shoulder.

"Ginny! Oh, thank Merlin you turned up!" A stout, middle aged woman suddenly appeared at her side.

"Merida, hi" Ginny greeted her friend. "Don't mean to be rude or anything, but why am I here? Polly sent me an owl, but you don't look busy at all, and nothing in the waiting area seems difficult to fix…"

Merida shook her head, "No, we don't need you here. This area's covered. You're needed in room 26 on the second floor. Difficult patient or something, I'm not privy to the information." She shook her head, a few wisps of blonde hair escaping her tightly wound bun. "All I know is that Healer Augustus said that she needed you, stat. So move yourself!" She tucked her hands into her waist and tried to look threatening.

Ginny gave a light chuckle at Merida's antics and marched herself towards the stair well. Taking the stairs two at a time, she walked down the corridor with her heart beating pleasantly quick at her throat. Pausing at the door, Ginny could hear quiet murmuring. Wondering what help she could be with contagious maladies, she turned the door knob. Unnervingly dark at first, the lights flashed in front of her eyes.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" A chorus of voices yelled enthusiastically.

"What?" Blinking the sun spots out of her vision, Ginny looked around. Most of her colleagues were gathered in the room, happily sporting brightly coloured party hats and waving streamers. A giant banner hung on the back wall, the enchanted "Happy 20th Birthday" script spitting out glitter at random intervals. Ginny frowned, still trying to figure out what exactly was going on.

"Happy birthday, Ginerva!" Polly Augustus approached her, her pink and yellow party hat perched precariously on her head. "Did we surprise you?"

"Polly, sorry, but what are you talking about? It's not my birthday"

Polly's Cheshire grin slipped. "What? Of course it is!" She grinned again, convinced that Ginny was having them on.

"No, it's not my birthday. My birthday was last month…" Ginny was starting to feel guilty for not being born today. Poor things, they'd obviously spent a lot of time organising this so she wouldn't suspect anything.

"Are you serious? Oh Merlin, I must have confused the eight with a nine when I looked at your personnel record!" Polly looked so deflated that even her party hat seemed to wilt.

Ginny could see Polly beating herself up, so she decided to step in. "Look, its fine. It can be my belated birthday party!" Ginny laughed. Polly still looked a bit put out, so Ginny punched her lightly in the shoulder. "Come on, Polly. I can smell the cake from here and it smells delicious. You can't tell me that it's going to waste!" She grabbed the party hat off Polly's head and slammed it onto her own.

The noise built up to a happy chatter once again, the guests resuming their party. Ginny helped herself to a butterbeer, happy to avoid eating the (sugar-ridden) cake for as long as possible. She settled down in a chair next to Polly and thanked her for the party.

"I'd love to take the credit for this, but it wasn't my idea, to tell you the truth. Darian, the new Healer, came to me and said that at his old job they used to celebrate all the Healer's birthdays milestone birthdays. A celebration for making it through the decades, if you will" Polly talked around the cake in her mouth. "Oh! Gin, you should really have some of this cake! I think Fredrik made it, and it's _gorgeous._"

"I'll have some in a bit, Polly," Ginny lied "I want to make sure everyone has some first." She cast her gaze across the room, caught Darian's eye and raised her bottle in salute, silently thanking him.

The party, after all the initial confusion, turned out to be a raging success. Butter beer was served for the Healers that were on a shift, and someone produced a bottle of Fire Whiskey for those who weren't. Assured that the others had everything covered, Ginny indulged in a tumbler or two of the warming liquid. She happily chatted with her co-workers and graciously received a few offered presents. The party was slowly coming to its end when the doors burst open again. Merida looked more flustered then she usually did. "Need someone on third floor, potion poisoning, room four. Group hex just came in, just don't have the man power right now" she spat out before disappearing in a flurry of lime green robes.

Most of the Healers left in the room appeared to be a bit too sloshed to be up to the task, Ginny noted as she hoisted herself to her feet. She assessed her mental state – tipsy, no doubt. The tumblers hadn't been small, but overall she was functioning at a reasonably sober level. A potion poisoning shouldn't be too hard to deal with, and at the very least she could put the patient into a steady state until more staff were made available. Excusing herself briefly, Ginny made her way up to the third floor.

The stairwell proved to be a bit more challenging than previously expected.

Finally opening the door to the third floor, Ginny became aware that an almost manic giggling was filling the hallway. "What on earth?" She mumbled to herself as she put on her most professional face. Following the laughter, Ginny soon realised that it was originating from room 4. Bugger. Patients with uncontrollable _anything_ were always so bitter about it, always eager to blame anything except themselves. "Well, at least it's not caustic vomit again" she consoled herself as she entered the room.

"Hello! I'm Ginerva Weasly, and I'll be your Healer…" The words died in her throat when her brain recognised who she was looking at.

Platinum blonde hair and grey eyes stared back at her.

Unhinged, she scrambled for words, her brain stoutly refusing to help. "Um… Hi" She cursed those tumblers of Fire Whiskey.

Draco Malfoy undoubtedly would have replied with a snarky comment, but thankfully he was preoccupied with the irrepressible giggles emitting from his mouth. Ginny somehow managed to collect her wits about her and focus on what she was here to do. Professional Ginerva slid back into place.

"Uncontrollable giggling from potion poisoning, right? That shouldn't be too difficult." Ginny tugged a piece of parchment and a quill from her pocket, uncorking a tiny bottle of ink. She placed them on the bedside table. "Can you tell me what potion you were brewing when the symptoms started?"

Grey eyes glared at her as pale hands took the parchment. He carefully dipped the quill into the miniscule bottle of ink and scrawled something, passing her the parchment with a glower.

"_Wideye Potion, billywig stings not dried properly"_ She read. "At least you know what caused it. Why couldn't you just make the antidote yourself? I mean," she checked herself. Professional, remember? "This will take maybe an hour to brew. I'll be back when it's done." Ginny nodded reassure him (or herself?) and hurried out of the room. She took a deep breath in, held it in her lungs.

She rested against the corridor wall, feeling the coolness seep into her overheated skin. "Oh Merlin" she whispered under her breath. "Why did he have to pick today?"


	3. Memories are Dangerous Things

**Disclaimer: These characters are the works of JK Rowling.**

**Let Dean Men Lie 03 – Memories are Dangerous Things**

* * *

Ginny let the last ingredient fall into the small cauldron and watched as the midnight blue bubbled into a light yellow. She doubled checked the instructions, not trusting the slight fog the Fire Whiskey had drawn around her thoughts. She stirred it three times clockwise, once anticlockwise, and sat back to let it simmer for another fifteen minutes. Ginny had always held a healthy appreciation for the power an aptitude in potion making gave. She stared into the swirling liquid and got lost in the whirlpool, her thought mimicking the rippling waves.

Draco Malfoy. Merlin, you'd think time would have healed old wounds. She hadn't thought of him in years (don't lie) but even if she had, she never would have expected this turn of events when she got up this morning. Of course, it was not entirely incomprehensible that he would be lying in a bed of the only major magical hospital, but that she would be the one tending him? If he had come in under different circumstances, hell – even if there was another capable Healer, it would be so much easier to ignore him. How easy it would have been to call up the old feelings of betrayal and hurt and that ball of rage that was never quite gone. She wouldn't have gone within a hundred meters of him. But no, that would have been too easy. He had to come in today, with potion poisoning. Her goddamn forte. And to top it off, he was giggling. It was awfully hard to hate someone who was giggling. So now she was stuck between a rock and a hard place: face what she had been running from - from the moment Hogwarts came tumbling down, or she could keep running and wear the cowardice like armour.

Ginny reluctantly let her mind wander back five years to the night that sent her spiralling down the path leading right to a pair of liquid mercury eyes. She had never meant to like him, but he made it so hard to hate him. The outside exterior was harsh lines and frosty demeanour, but once you got past that he was actually quite likeable. Not many people managed that, Ginny didn't think they could be bothered even trying. But in the early hours of the morning, in the highest room of the tallest tower, she had found a very lonely boy.

She hadn't meant to find him. Quite the opposite, she was looking for a place where she wouldn't find anyone. She was looking for somewhere that she could talk out loud, maybe to the night sky - anything the break the oppressive silence that fell in the dark. Insomnia was great like that; the overwhelming silence enveloped you until you couldn't stand the quiet. The Gryffindor common room was fine for a while, but it was never quite enough. It had too much… presence. The high towers seemed like the perfect place; they were deserted, even by the ghosts, so there was no one there to wake up. She had walked up the steps with the notion that she might talk to the stars, and make them the confidant she had never dared have. Whatever solace she had hoped to gain from the abandoned tower had quickly vanished when she realised that she was not the only one up that night.

He was leaning against the wall, eyes fixated on the velvet sky stretched out before him. His hair almost glowed in the moonlight, his profile softly illuminated. Everything about him seemed ethereal and strangely fragile, as though any disturbance would shatter the sight before her. She must have made a noise, and his head snapped towards her. Mercurial eyes had flared as they recognised her.

"What are you doing here?"

Ginny snapped out of her thoughts, quickly checking her potion. It had developed into a bright daisy colour, as per instructions. Ginny deemed that it had simmered enough and she decanted a small amount, breathing deeply and internally cursing the tumblers of Fire Whiskey - without fail, it made her introspective. Dwelling on the past was not an indulgence afforded to her anymore, not after her resolution of this morning. Ginny took another deep breath and squared her shoulders, willing herself to repeat her mantra of that morning. _This is your day._

Refusing to be intimidated by memories from a lifetime ago, Ginny marched herself down the corridor once again. She clutched the potion in her hand and rehearsed what she was going to say to her patient. _"Drink this, Mister Malfoy. It should do the trick." Hand it to him. When he stops giggling, tell him that he needs to stay overnight for observation and that he will be discharged in the morning. Don't linger any more then you have to. _She repeated it again, it sounded so straightforward in her head.

The laughter filling the hallways sounded hoarse and strained. Ginny quickened her steps, if she didn't get this antidote into her patient soon, she would be back in the potion workroom brewing a throat balm.

"Drink this, Mister Malfoy. It should do the trick" She said it confidently, just like she had practiced. Draco reached for the potion, hands shaking as giggles wracked his body. Ginny hesitated.

"Here, let me do that," she perched awkwardly on the bed, leaning closer, "I'm sorry, but you'll probably just spill it." Supporting the back of his head with one practiced hand, Ginny raised the glass bottle to his lips, steadfastly ignoring her screaming mind.

Draco managed to swallow the potion without choking; looking at her with relief as the giggles slowly subsided. "Thank you" he croaked.

Ginny poured him a glass of water, hating herself for feeling sorry for him.

"Mister Malfoy, you're going to need to stay here overnight for observation, but you should be discharged – " She raised her eyes to meet his, and suddenly the words died in her throat. She swallowed hard, collecting herself. "You should be discharged in the morning" she finished unsteadily. Draco gulped the glass of water down, wincing as the iced liquid cascaded down his raw throat. Ginny's eyes lingered over his face, memories fighting their way to the surface of her conscious mind. He placed the glass on the bedside table, refusing to meet her gaze. Narrowing her eyes as she took the brunt of an imagined insult, Ginny stiffy got off the bed, internally cursing herself for not being more distant.

"The overnight Healer will check up on you periodically from now until your discharge. Have a good night, Mister Malfoy." The words were hard and her smile was forced. Turning on her heel, she stormed out of the room. She maintained her pace until she reached the staff break room. No longer interested in being there any longer, Ginny Aparated with a sharp _CRACK._

* * *

Draco Malfoy sighed into the empty room. Of all the Healers he had to stumble into, it had to be Ginerva Weasly. He hadn't seen or spoken to her in years, and their reunion had to be over a stupid mistake he had made while brewing a potion. It's not as though the potion was difficult – he had brewed it a million times before. But all it took was letting an ingredient fall into the potion without checking it, and he ended up in the lap of the one witch he would never have the courage to face in person.

Way to go, Draco thought sourly. Handled that one spectacularly, oh well done you. Couldn't have struck up a conversation? Asked her how her day was? Told her that for the past four years there hasn't been a day where she doesn't cross your mind? Told her about the draw full of unsent letters? You coward.

That's exactly what he was. A coward. He may have found the strength to stand up to the psychologically sick adults that coerced him into doing unspeakable things back in his youth, but when faced with a fire-headed witch and a temper to match it, he fell back on his defensive mechanism. Pretending she didn't exist. Pretending that she wasn't worth anything to him. Pretending that he didn't dream of her lips on his, or the way her skin felt beneath his hands.

Stop it, Draco told himself sternly. If you can't talk to her, you have no business remembering the history that you shared. He huffed and rolled onto his side. As he slowly drifted into an exhausted sleep, the last concrete thought to cross his mind was a memory of blazing hair and deep brown eyes.


	4. A Story

**Disclaimer: These characters are the works of JK Rowling**

**Let Dead Men Lie 04 – A Story**

* * *

Crookshanks was dozing peacefully in the sun when Ginny Aparated home. He stretched lazily, eying the red headed witch as she paced angrily around the lounge room.

"Hermione, are you home?" She called out sharply, for once she desperately needed to talk to her best friend. Crookshanks followed her eagerly as she stomped into the kitchen; mewling pathetically as he stood by his food bowl. Ginny gave him a cursory glance. "I'm not feeding you!" she spat venomously. Thumping her fists onto the kitchen counter, she snatched the note lying next to the coffee machine, '_Gone to Diagon Alley. Should be back before dinner – H.'_ Ginny growled as she flung the note back on the counter, a lucid thought flitting its way through her mind. Why was she even angry? The boy with whom she'd had some semblance of a relationship wasn't the man that lay in the hospital bed.

"Fuck him!" Ginny drowned out the rational thoughts, not caring who heard. "Who does he think he is?" Ginny stormed into her bedroom, still yelling as Crookshanks cautiously followed behind. "I'm not just some ordinary Healer that he can ignore. It's not my job to bend to his every whim! He's lucky I didn't just curse him on the spot!" Her temper broke as she picked up a pillow from her bed and threw it at the wall. It landed on the floor with a soft _thud_, catching the end of Crookshanks' tail. He hissed softly at the offending item and trotted to the door, completely unprepared for the pair of restrictive arms that whisked him into the air. Ginny sank onto her bed, pulling the startled cat into her lap. She buried her face into his fur, trying to stifle the loud and chest-aching sobs that wracked her body.

* * *

Ginny woke up several hours later alone in her bed, Crookshanks must have escaped once she fell asleep. She uncurled herself from the foetal position she'd slept in and winced as she sat up, groggily lifting her hands to cradle her aching head. Sighing deeply as she wiped the sleep from her eyes, Ginny padded quietly towards the kitchen. Hermione was home, Ginny could hear her singing softly to herself as she cooked.

"Hey" Ginny croaked. Hermione turned towards her, the welcoming smile quickly fading as she assessed her friend's condition.

"Oh, Ginny… What's happened?" Hermione put the stirring spoon down, and drew her into the circle of her arms. Ginny felt the tears welling again as she allowed herself to be held. Swallowing roughly, Ginny stepped back and leant against the wall. Hermione watched her through concerned eyes.

"At work today –" Ginny paused, swallowing around the hard lump in her throat. She poured herself a glass of water, not completely trusting herself to speak without crying. She took a deep breath to compose herself and started again. "I saw Draco Malfoy at work today"

Hermione frowned. "I don't understand. Did he say something to you that made you so upset?"

"No… Not exactly… It's a long story. Probably one I should have told you about a long time ago, but I was so ashamed about what you'd think…" Ginny trailed off, not meeting her eyes. She felt wretched for not confiding in her best friend sooner.

Hermione nodded slowly. "Well, dinner is practically done. It's not anything grand – just plain old spaghetti bolognaise – but I couldn't be bothered cooking anything fancy. So why don't we pour a glass of wine and sit at the table, and you can tell your story while we eat?"

"I'd prefer a glass of Fire Whiskey, if I'm honest" Ginny said, more to herself than Hermione. "It's been a pretty crap day." Hermione's mouth twitched into a small smile as she served up the meal into bowls. Ginny made her way over to the grog cabinet. "Do you want red or white?" she called over her shoulder.

"Red, please. Any bottle, I'm not fussed"

Ginny grabbed the first one she saw with one hand and the almost empty bottle of Fire Whiskey in the other. I'll have to get another, she thought to herself as she surveyed how much was left. I didn't think I'd drunk that much in the past month… Oh. Harry. The dickhead, he could have asked first. She splashed the remaining Fire Whiskey into a tumbler, filled Hermione's glass and made her way over to the table.

"So," Hermione started as she twirled the spaghetti onto her fork, "what's this story?"

Ginny took a fortifying sip of whiskey. "I don't suppose you'd be interested in the abridged version?" she asked hopefully.

"Not on your life. Spill the beans, Ginerva."

"Right," Ginny chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "I don't know if you know this already, but I developed some pretty severe insomnia in my fifth year at Hogwarts. Just couldn't fall asleep, and when I finally managed it I couldn't sleep for more than a couple of hours. It was really horrible actually; I had no focus for anything. Anyway, point is I took to haunting the Gryffindor common room for a while. But I never felt comfortable there, like it was too exposed. So I started roaming the school at night, trying to find a place where I could be… me… in the early hours of the morning." She ate some more spaghetti, no longer really tasting it.

Hermione took the pause in Ginny's story as an invitation to comment. "If it means anything, I had some hefty suspicions about your insomnia. I noticed that you were always tired and frankly Gin, you looked exhausted to your bones." She smiled reassuringly.

Ginny continued after swallowing another mouthful of spaghetti. "So after trawling through Harry's Marauder's Map for places where people didn't venture after dark, I found that the North and South Towers seemed pretty deserted. I tried the South Tower first, but there was this huge gaping hole in the roof and it didn't look like it was going to be fixed any time soon. So I went up to the North Tower, and stumbled across Draco Malfoy."

"Oh."

"Yeah, that's what I said." Ginny sipped at her whiskey, glad of the distracting warmth pooling in her belly. "No surprises that he hated me being there, threatened to throw me off the roof a couple of time. But, I don't know… It was like we could be different people. He didn't have to hate me because of elite social circles, and I didn't have to hate him because of his father." She paused, searching for the words to make Hermione understand. "I guess we formed an uneasy truce at first. Spent about two weeks in complete silence, just being comforted by knowing that there was someone up at those ungodly hours too… Sometimes we there together, sometimes it was just me, some nights we slept for a bit and other nights we didn't. It was…" Ginny fished around in her mind for an appropriate word, "nice" she finished lamely.

Hermione finished her wine and got up to pour another one without saying anything. She respected that this was Ginny's story to tell, and that in a way it was more for her own benefit than Hermione's. She'd suspected that Ginny had personal demons; everyone did, but she also suspected that Ginny's were closer to the surface than they should be. She resumed her seat at the table, and gave her friend a smile, indicating that she should continue.

Ginny pushed the food around her plate, her appetite had vanished. "We started talking after a while. No, _I_ started talking. Not about anything important, just school work and Quidditch to begin with. He tried ignoring me, but it's hard to ignore the only person talking in a silent room. So he listened without saying anything. Then one night I let it slip that I had nightmares about the night in the Chamber of Secrets, and his perfect mask kind of broke. He whispered that he was sorry, and that he had no idea the extent of what happened that night. It was hard hearing it; I guess I always just assumed that his father bragged about it to his family. So I stopped blaming him for his father's wrong doings, after that. And we actually started talking... He became my circumstantial friend; one that would never be there in public, but under the cover of darkness he would listen. That went on for a month or so… I felt like I could tell him anything, and that it would just be between us and the stars that were out to hear it." Ginny had the grace to blush at her next sentence. "And then we sort of became lovers."

Hermione choked on her wine.

"It wasn't planned," Ginny hurried. "We'd taken to sitting next to each other, instead of on the opposite sides of the room. And then one night, we fell asleep together. But like I've said before, I can't sleep for very long, so I was awake after about an hour or two. I remember sitting there, just watching him sleep for a bit. His defences go down when he sleeps, you know, and you can see what's really behind that mask that he keeps so firmly intact. I think he keeps his guard up so much that he doesn't know how to be himself without it. He didn't back then, in any case." Ginny checked herself, being sure to speak in past tense. Time had passed, and she didn't know anything about the man she met today. She drained the last of her Fire Whiskey, scrunching her nose as the liquid burned its way down her throat. "Anyway, he woke up. His hair was mused from sleeping and he looked so vulnerable. Merlin, Hermione, I couldn't help myself, so I kissed him." Ginny decided to keep the memory of his grey eyes flooding with lust and how her body felt alive under his gaze to herself. Hermione didn't need to know _everything_. "Well, one thing lead to another and we slept together. Remembered the contraceptive charm, don't worry."

Her friend still looked a bit shocked.

Ginny frowned slightly. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine, Gin. It's just a lot to process, that's all. This Malfoy is so different from the one I know. Please, keep going though"

"Okay. So we started sleeping together on a regular basis, and then he started to distance himself. I thought that I'd done something wrong, that it was my fault somehow. It took an entire night of badgering him to tell me what was going on. That's when he hold me about the pressure his father was putting on him to join the Death Eaters. It was the last thing I was expecting to hear. We fought about it, obviously. I didn't want him to do it, kept telling him that he was better than his father. I remember him standing there, furious and eyes blazing, demanding to know what right I had to say things like that. I remember saying the first thing that came into my head 'because I love you', and he ran." Ginny willed the brimming tears to go away, but they persisted. "He ran away from me, Hermione. I told him that I loved him, and he just _looked_ at me. Like I was nothing to him."

Hermione reached out and placed her hands over Ginny's, her simple action saying volumes more than her words ever could.

"Needless to say the nights together stopped. I don't know if he continued spending time up in the Tower, because I never did. Spent my nights in the Gryffindor common room and pretended that the ache in my heart would go away if I ignored it for long enough. And then today happened." Ginny brushed the tears off her cheeks. "I was fine, Hermione. I was fine until he appeared in my life again. It's all coming back, all those feelings, especially the ache that never goes away. And it scares me, terrifies me, that I'm still feeling these things for him. It makes me feel like I'm spiralling out of control…" And that the only thing anchoring me is a pair of mercurial eyes, Ginny finished the thought in her head.

Suddenly needing to be alone, Ginny got up. "I need to go to bed."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, and then changed tact. "We'll talk about this tomorrow, right?" Ginny gave a noncommittal shrug.

She walked into her room, shutting it behind her. The solid _click_ resonated throughout the now silent house.


	5. Morning Tea

**Disclaimer: These characters are due to the brillance of JK Rowling.**

**05 Let Dead Men Lie – Morning Tea**

* * *

Draco Malfoy pulled on his jacked, ignoring the Healer's appreciative stare with practiced arrogance.

"Are you sure that you won't stay another night, Mister Malfoy?" The Healer asked coyly. "It wouldn't be any trouble on our part. And it would be good for you to remain under observation for another twenty four hours."

"No, thank you, I have important matters to attend to today" Draco lied smoothly, leaving no room for rebuttal. "And I hardly think that another night of observation is required. I am perfectly fine." He stalked out of the room, his mind far too preoccupied to give the Healer the time of day. Draco maintained his pace until he reached the reception hall, somewhat unsure of where to go. His gaze swept across the crowded room and landed on a bored looking witch at the main desk. Marching over to the desk, Draco pulled on his most intimidating face.

The witch slowly raised her eyes to meet his, her expression never changing. "Yes?"

"I'm leaving. I believe you have my wand, and I'd like it back."

"Name?" she drawled slowly

"Draco Malfoy" he mimicked her bored tone.

The witch quirked her eyebrow, the movement so miniscule that Draco might have missed it. She sighed as she stood up, bending down at the cabinet behind her. He was treated to an enjoyable view as she muttered under her breath.

"Mabon… Makovec… Malaney… Malfoy" She turned around to face him again, placing his wand gently on the desk. She handed him a piece of paper and a quill. "Sign on the line, Mister Malfoy. It's a release form"

Draco scrawled his name and gathered his wand. "Where is the nearest Floo Network?" he demanded. Surprisingly, the bored expression on the witch's face slowly morphed into one of minor amusement. Draco narrowed his eyes, suddenly feeling like the butt of a joke. She tilted her head to the left and gave a pointed stare. He turned towards the large sign proclaiming 'FLOO HERE' and raised his chin a centimetre higher, refusing to be embarrassed. Stalking over to the large fireplace, he tossed a handful of Floo powder into the flames and stepped into the emerald green flames.

"Malfoy Manor" he said clearly before disappearing in a flurry of flames.

* * *

Draco stepped out of the hearth in the drawing-room, startling the House Elf that was in the process of polishing the large gilded mirror that hug over the elaborate mantle. The room was dominated by a long ornate table and a crystal chandelier, now restored to its former glory after being destroyed by the insufferable House Elf Dobby. Pale faced portraits watched him from dark purple walls as he swiftly crossed the stone floor, so absorbed into his thoughts that he collided with a warm body as he walkd into the foyer.

"Draco!" Narcissa exclaimed indignantly. "Darling, please look where you are going!"

"Sorry, Mother," Draco smiled fondly at the slim woman in front of him. "I was in another world. Where were you heading?"

"My sunroom," Narcissa sniffed, "I don't suppose you'll escort me after knocking me halfway across the foyer?"

Draco chuckled lightly as he offered his mother his arm. She delicately tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, and they made their way down the towering hallway of the west wing and entered Narcissa's sunroom. Her sanctuary had been decorated in a completely different vein compared to the striking rooms where guests were most likely to venture; a giant cream rug covered most of the stone floor, the walls covered in light green silk sprigged with dainty flowers, devoid of haughty family portraits. An elegant writing desk was nestled next to the marble hearth and a rich velvet couch faced the huge panel of glass that functioned as the far wall. The room radiated tranquillity, and Draco had always loved it.

"Would you like some tea, my darling?" Narcissa enquired as she settled herself on the couch.

Draco was well aware that his mother wasn't actually asking a question. "Yes, please." He took a seat on the couch, admiring the gorgeous view of the expansive garden.

"Mana!" Narcissa called imperiously. A House Elf appeared at her side, instantly.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Draco and I would like some tea, please," Narcissa paused for a second. "And some sliced cucumber sandwiches." Mana bobbed her head furiously.

"Is that all Mistress is desiring?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Mana will be back shortly!"

Draco waited until Mana had disappeared before gently taking his mother's hand. "I see that the weather has been treating your garden well" he commented. Narcissa allowed herself a small smile.

"Yes, English weather has its benefits. Now, my sweet, tell me where you were last night! I was worried sick."

Draco cringed internally. He'd been expecting to have this conversation. "I was brewing potions yesterday afternoon. I didn't check some of the ingredients properly, and had a potion malfunction. Took myself to St. Mungo's and was kept overnight. I didn't mean to worry you, Mother, truly."

Narcissa pursed her lips slightly, withholding her comments as Mana appeared once again. The small Elf set up a tray of delicate china cups and a matching teapot, and carefully placed a plate of small sandwiches beside the tray before disappearing with a _pop!_

"Making mistakes is not like you at all, darling. You're always so careful. Was something distracting you?" she enquired as she poured the tea. Draco took a steaming cup, stirring in a splash of milk.

"No, Mother. I was just careless, that's all. I ran into an old acquaintance while I was at St. Mungo's, though." Draco knew from past experiences that it was a lot less painful just to tell his mother about these things, she had eyes and ears everywhere and was quite ruthless in her questioning.

"How lovely, Draco. Who was it? Do I know them?"

"Ginerva Weasly" Draco sipped his tea, observing his mother's reaction. He was careful to keep his voice neutral.

"How unexpected," Narcissa raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "And how interesting that you should term the girl an acquaintance. Surely you know better than to undermine your fine heritage by associating with such a low class?"

Draco frowned, getting a distinct impression that his mother was lecturing him on proper public decorum. "Mother, she was on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, there's no way I could _not_ associate with her."

"Don't pout, Draco. It doesn't become you." Narcissa gave a delicate shrug and dismissed the topic of Ginerva Weasly, no longer interested in discussing her any more. "I ran into Pansy Parkinson the other day, did I mention?"

Torn between being confused and thankful for the sudden topic change, Draco pretended to be interested. "No, Mother, I'm afraid you didn't. She's well, I trust?"

"Very. In fact, we had a delightful little chat while I was in Twilfit and Tattings. Honestly, my sweet, that tailor is not as swift as he used to be! I had to wait twenty minutes for my new robes. Twenty minutes, Draco! Imagine!" Narcissa exclaimed.

"Indeed, Mother. You were saying about Pansy?"

"Oh yes, of course. We had such a lovely chat that I invited her over for dinner, darling. She should be here around five o'clock." Narcissa drained her teacup and placed it gently on the saucer. "Thank you for sitting with me, my sweet. I expect you have things to do today, and I mustn't keep you." Narcissa took his hand and squeezed it gently, accepting Draco's feather-light kiss on her cheek.

His mother's voice floated after him as he left the room. "Five o'clock, darling. Don't be late."

Draco wandered down the hallway and crossed into the south wing of the Manor, stopping briefly at his study. He opened the desk draw and popped up the false floor, retrieving a folded piece of parchment hidden beneath. He held the parchment in his hand for a moment before tucking it into his pocket and continued on his way.

He opened the heavy door to his chambers and breathed deeply as it firmly closed behind him. He walked across the large room and collapsed onto his bed, his eyelids fluttering shut as the soft mattress accommodated his body. Merlin, he had missed his bed last night. The hospital mattress, if you could call it that, had been as hard as a rock and had left his back aching. Resisting the temptation to sleep, Draco forced himself to get up again and opened the door to the adjoining bathroom.

He turned the taps on and watched as the large marble bathtub filled with steaming water. A medley of jasmine and lavender filled the air and Draco took a deep breath, allowing the scented air to fill his lungs. He took the parchment from his pocket and laid it on the edge of the bathtub and then stripped, dropping his clothes carelessly onto the floor. Easing himself into the hot water, Draco let out a quiet groan as his tightly wound muscles responded to the encompassing heat. He laid there for a while, enjoying the heady scent of the air and the warmth of the water. Eyeing the parchment next to him, Draco slowly reached for it, not caring if it became water stained. He held it for a second longer and then opened it; the steam had made it pliable and it unfolded easily, despite the heavy creases.

_Ginny,_

_You have no idea how much I wish I could change the last night we spent together, how much I wish you had come back so I could at least attempt to explain. I understand why you didn't though, and there is no way that I could ever hold that against you. I'm sorry. Ginny… It's not as black and white as you think it is. This whole thing with my father, it's neither what I want to do nor who I want to become. It's what I __have__ to do; who I __must__ be. I don't expect you to forgive me for running away from you after you told me that you loved me, or to understand why I had to leave. _

_Being with you, Ginny, is like being a better version of myself. You make me want to believe that I am stronger than I am, that I can be more than who my father wants me to be. But that can't happen: family honor comes first. _

_I'm sorry, Ginny, so sorry. I'm sorry for everything that I have done, and everything that I will do. I'm sorry that I don't have the strength to say no without you by my side, and that I don't have the courage to stand by you and say it. But Ginny, please believe me when I say that I remain yours. That in the circle of your arms I found a friend and a lover, and a soul made of the same fabric as mine. _

_Draco._

Draco stared at the letter until it was burned into his mind. He listlessly dropped it onto the bathroom floor, and pulled his knees up to his chest. He hugged them close, and sat there until the water went cold.

* * *

**A small shout out to those who have left such positive reviews: marinka, Katereena, Magali, xxBabyT-ranxx, and purple389. Thank you so much for taking the time - the support has been so helpful, you really have no idea. **


	6. An Unexpected Visit

**Disclaimer: Characters belong firmly in the world of JK Rowling**

**Let Dead Men Lie 06 – An Unexpected Visit**

* * *

Draco managed to pull himself out of the bath and stood with a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. He watched the droplets of water as they fell from his body, creating miniature pools as they splashed onto the floor. Wandering slowly back into his bedroom chambers, he paused thoughtfully as his gaze landed on the wall-mounted clock. It was a little before midday. Draco decided it was high time to pay a visit to a certain witch, and maybe start to rebuild the bridges he had so thoroughly burned in his youth.

He pulled a navy sweater and a pair of dark slacks out of his expansive closet and dressed quickly, suddenly reluctant to waste any more time on melancholy thoughts. Draco walked swiftly to his study with shoes in hand, his bare feet padding softly over the cold stone. He perched on the end of the overstuffed armchair and quickly laced his boots, taking a deep breath before throwing a small handful of Floo Powder into the fireplace.

"St. Mungo's!" He spoke clearly as the flames consumed him.

The first thing he noticed as he stepped out of the poky hearth in the magical hospital was the sheer number of people crammed into the Reception hall. Draco brushed some soot off his shoulder, trying his hardest to avoid stepping on the small children weaving amongst the legs of the crowd. He took a deep breath and walked over to the main desk for the second time that day. The bored looking witch didn't seem to be fazed by the influx of people demanding help, and recognition flickered briefly over her face as Draco approached her.

"Can I help you?"

Draco faltered for a millisecond, doubts flashing through his mind. What if he was making a huge mistake? He drew himself to his full height, hardening his resolve. "Yes, I hope you can. I need the address of a Healer here, Ginerva Weasly."

"Mister Malfoy, it is not our policy to hand out personal details of our staff members." The stern response was accompanied by a highly disapproving look.

"I'm sure it isn't. However, it is of the utmost importance that I get her address; I'm an old friend."

The witch gave him a deadpan glare. "I'm not a Muggle, Mister Malfoy, or an idiot. I don't believe that one for a second. I know about the Malfoys and their elitist attitude, everyone does. Why should I help you?"

Draco was somewhat taken aback by her sharp reply, and decided to try a different tact. He quickly looked over his shoulder, searching the crowd for familiar faces. Thankfully, there were none. He leant closer to the counter, the witch mimicking his motion with a curious expression. "Look, Ginerva and I have unfinished business – nothing nasty. I'd really appreciate if you could help me." He spoke softly and urgently, and something about him swayed the witch behind the desk.

"Merlin knows why, Mister Malfoy, but I believe you. Here," she scribbled briefly on a slip of parchment and pushed it towards him, "you should be able to Aparate to that address. But if you're lying to me and I get the rap for this…" She let the threat hang in the air between them. Draco nodded solemnly and pocked the offered parchment, turning his back and walking to the hospital exit. A ghost of a smirk played across his lips; sometimes people were just too easy to persuade.

* * *

Hermione burrowed deeper into the couch, absorbed in her favourite book for the umpteenth time. Ginny sat at the foot of the couch, a half completed jigsaw puzzle spread out before her. She smiled to herself and stretched slightly; remembering how much she had missed spending time with her friend, just the two of them. They'd spent every Sunday afternoon together when they first moved in, but over the years the days had become a rarity – Ginny had work commitments more often than not, and Harry would frequently occupy her friend's time.

Hermione gave a breathy sigh and clutched the worn novel to her chest. Chrookshanks lifted his head from his mistress' lap, mewling softly at the interruption of his sleep.

Ginny chuckled lightly. "What part are you up too?"

"The part where Cathy is professing her love for Heathcliff to Nelly; oh Ginny, listen to this," Hermione cleared her throat before reciting. "_So he shall never know how I love him: and that, not because he's handsome, Nelly, but because he's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same, and Linton's is as different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire._"

Ginny rolled her eyes at her friend, refusing to acknowledge that the words resonated with something buried deep within her heart. "You're just a soft romantic, aren't you?"

"Don't tell anyone, Gin. They won't find me intimidating anymore." Hermione joked, retuning her attention to her book.

Ginny was about to retort when a _CRACK_ sounded from outside their house. She glanced up at her friend. "Are you expecting anyone?"

Hermione shook her head, giving a small shrug. Ginny dropped the puzzle piece she had been scrutinising, getting to her feet with a heavy sigh. "I'll bet it's that crazy old bat from next door. She's absolutely convinced I'm intercepting her owls and poisoning her ugly plants" she threw over her shoulder as she walked to the door. "Although why she has an Abyssinian Shrivelfig in her backyard I'll never know."

Ginny opened the door, completely unprepared for who stood on the other side of the threshold. Her eyes widened as she promptly slammed the door closed again.

Draco couldn't hold back a small smirk.

Heart beating furiously in her ears, Ginny took a steadying breath. She cracked the door open, peering through the small slit. Yup, he was still there. She eased the door open a few more centimetres.

"Hello, Ginny."

"What are you doing here?" she demanded. "How do you know where I live?"

Draco shifted his weight to the other foot. "The witch at the front desk of St Mungo's told me. Can I come in? I think we need to talk"

"Bloody Hell, I'll gut her!" Ginny growled. "No, Draco, you may not come in. Besides, I have nothing to say to you. Go away."

"I'm not leaving, not this time. I owe you an apology, and I'd like to deliver it face to face, please."

Ginny weighed the options in her mind. Internally cursing herself, she joined Draco on the porch. Tightening her grip on the wand in her pocket, she waited for him to start talking.

Draco took a moment to decide what he was going to say. Feeling hideously underprepared, he mentally punched himself for not thinking this through clearly. Still, this was going better than he could have hoped – she was standing quietly in front of him, and he hadn't been hexed once.

Ginny tapped her foot impatiently.

"I'm sorry for being rude at the hospital." He blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

Ginny narrowed her eyes. Draco could see her temper simmering beneath the surface, and hastily scrambled for the words to soothe it. She beat him to it.

"I'm glad you got that off your chest," she spat venomously. "It must have been _so _hard for you. Now, if you don't mind, I have better things to do than to stand here and pander to your need to feel better about yourself." She shook her head and reached for the doorknob.

Draco shot out a hand, fingers brushing lightly against her back. "Please, don't leave."

Ginny squared her shoulders and faced him again, arms crossed over her chest. "Why?" she challenged.

The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to filter them. "Because I can't bear it anymore." Draco swore under his breath, he hadn't meant to say that.

"Excuse me?"

Throwing caution to the wind, Draco decided that honesty may be the best approach. "That's why I'm here... I can't keep pretending that everything is fine because there is no way that it could be. These past four years have been torment, knowing that I let you walk out of my life—"

"I walked out? Now hold up for one bloody moment! I _never _walked away from you, you ran away from _me_!"

"I know that. But you never came back—"

"Did you expect me to? Honestly? I broke every rule that I had for you. I let you know me, the real me. And then you decided that it was too much, that you didn't want me and you _left _me. I loved you more than I have ever loved anyone and you took my heart and stood on it!"

"No! Ginny, I have always wanted you, leaving you was the hardest thing I've ever done—"

"Then why did you go?" Ginny cried.

"Because I couldn't bear to stay" Draco whispered. "Because I knew in that moment that I loved you back, and that scared me beyond belief."

"How can you turn up and say that? After all this time? After so many years thinking that for some reason you resented me for loving you?" Ginny shook her head. "Why should I believe you?"

Draco didn't have an answer. Eyes the colour of storms held her gaze, and time stopped.

Ginny broke the stare and turned her head, noticing for the first time that her face was wet. When did she start crying? Quickly wiping them from her cheeks, Ginny clenched her jaw and firmly shook her head.

Draco did the only thing he could think of. He grabbed Ginny's arm and whirled her around to face him, the other hand snaking around the back of her head. He kissed her, trying to make her feel what he was feeling – what he had been feeling since the night he left her standing in the moonlight. Ginny was lost in the feeling of his lips on hers, and then all too soon it was over. Draco stood close to her, his lips parted and his eyes piercing her soul. Her rational mind clicked into gear, processing what had just happened. Unfortunately for Draco, Ginny reacted on instinct.

She hexed him.

* * *

**Quote: Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë (pg. 78)**


	7. Less Than Perfect

**Disclaimer: Credit for these characters goes to JK Rowling**

**Let Dead Men Lie 07 – Less Than Perfect**

* * *

"Bloody hell, Ginny!" Draco yelled as the Bat-Bogey hex took effect. He scrambled for his wand, alternating between attempting to Vanish the large, winged bogeys and trying to squat them with his free hand.

"Is everything okay?" Hermione appeared at the door, somewhat breathless. "I heard yelling, I thought…" She trailed off, processing the scene before her. "Oh."

"Oh" Ginny agreed.

"Haven't lost your touch, then?"

Ginny pursed her lips, her arms crossed firmly over her chest. "You know what they say; you never forget your first hex," she said tightly.

Draco shouted incomprehensibly as one particularly vicious bogey dive-bombed the top of his head. Ginny couldn't suppress the vindictive smile that crawled over her lips.

Hermione frowned. "Do you think that he's had enough? They're pretty nasty, even for your hexes."

Ginny glowered darkly at her friend. "Stay out of this."

Hermione blanched slightly. "Merlin, Gin. What did he do?"

"He kissed me. Amongst other things."

"… What else?" Hermione couldn't help but ask.

"Oh, you know, just turned up out of the blue, professed his undying love, and tried tell me that for the past four years he's been wasting away without me." Ginny snapped. It was easier to be angry than acknowledge the flood of emotion raging inside her. "The bloody nerve of you, Malfoy!" She yelled.

Hermione rested her hand lightly on Ginny's shoulder, privately thinking that Draco should be counting his lucky stars that all she was doing was hexing him. But her inner Gryffindor was scowling disapprovingly, and she couldn't allow her friend to indulge her punishment for any longer. It wasn't healthy for either Ginny or Draco. Hermione sighed and waved her wand, releasing the hex. Ginny turned, eyes blazing.

"Ginny, stop it." Hermione said sternly. "Look at him, he's had enough."

Draco had slumped on the ground, breathing heavily. Ginny stared at him, flickers of regret flashing across her face. Eventually, she crouched beside him.

"Do you feel better now?" Draco asked bitterly

"No," she admitted, offering a hand to help him up. He didn't take it.

They stood apart, the distance between them telling their story.

Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but choked on the words. Tears threatened behind her eyelids, pinpricks of red dotted her cheeks as she bottled the hurricane inside her.

Draco watched as she struggled, too drained to make it easy for her. Wordlessly, he turned on his heel and Aparated. Ginny exhaled as though it had been a physical blow. A tear escaped and rolled down the curve of her cheek. A passing breeze dried it onto her skin as she closed her eyes against the world.

* * *

Draco Aparated into the foyer of the Manor, swiftly storming up the elaborate staircase. He was walking past his father's study when a deep voice interrupted the silence of the house.

"Draco," it echoed down the hall.

Draco frowned, not in the mood to deal with his father. He pushed open the ajar door, and entered the dimly lit room. His father was seated behind an enormous desk strewn with parchment, and gestured for him to sit with a wave of his pale hand.

Draco gingerly sat in the winged chair, not sure what to expect.

Lucius rolled his head, the vertebrae cracking audibly. He clasped his long fingers together and peered at his son. "Your mother tells me that we have a guest tonight"

Oh, thank Merlin. "Yes, Father. Pansy Parkinson is joining us for dinner; Mother saw her while she was out, and you know how she chats."

"Indeed." Lucius drawled. "I trust that you will be on your _best_ behaviour?"

Draco bristled. First Mother admonishing him, and now Father? He wasn't five. "I'm well aware of what you expect, Father. Have I given you any reason to doubt my decorum?"

"Not yet, but see that you don't." Lucius fixed a piercing stare on his heir. "The Parkinson's are a very wealthy family; all pure-blood." The implication was clear.

"Understood, Father. Is that all?"

"One more thing, Draco." Lucius purposely picked up a piece of parchment and handed it to his son. Draco recognised it immediately as the one he had left on the bathroom floor. Fuck. "I will excuse this as a school-boy infatuation, and nothing more will come of it – do you understand?"

Draco swallowed roughly and crumpled the letter in his fist, making a swift exit. He practically ran to his chambers, so desperate to be alone and to be allowed to breathe without the restrictions of tradition heavy on his chest.

Draco closed the door behind him, allowing his shoulders to sag. Dragging his feet across the room, he sat on the edge of his bed and tucked a leg underneath him. Uncurling his fist, he tried to smooth the heavily creased parchment. The corner bearing Ginny's name tore off under his efforts, and Draco quickly snatched the scrap off the bed. He ran his thumb over her name, feeling the imprint his quill had left so many years ago. His father would want some evidence that his warning against Ginny had been heeded… Draco stared at the ripped fragment in his hand and gently placed it on the bedside table, gathering his wand and the parchment heavily marred with unforgiving lines.

The bathroom was pristine, with no sign that he had used it previously. The House Elves had done their job well, the clothes were no longer on the floor and the huge bath had no evidence that water had touched it. The only reminder was a faint aroma of jasmine and lavender in the air, but Draco knew that would fade shortly.

He placed the letter in the sink. "_Incendio_" he muttered, watching as flames curled around the edges and turned them black. He left the ash in the sink for the House Elves. They could show his father, Draco thought petulantly.

He glanced at the clock. Draco cocked his head, his grey eyes sliding towards the closed door of his walk-in closet. He still had hours before Pansy arrived and he had to pretend that he still tolerated her. Decision made, Draco rummaged through his sock draw, pulling out a small bottle of purple potion.

"Hello, my old friend" Draco muttered, carrying the bottle back to his bed. He settled himself and took a deep swig. The familiar cloud circled his thoughts as the Dreamless Sleep Potion quickly took effect.

* * *

"Master Draco!" There was an incessant pulling at his sleeve. "Wake up, Master Draco!"

Draco grumbled and rolled over.

"Master Draco, Mistress has sent Mana to remind Master Draco of the time!"

He cracked opened an eye. Encouraged by the movement, Mana bobbled enthusiastically, still tugging at his sleeve. Draco yawned and propped himself onto his elbows, dislodging Mana's grip.

"What?" he yawned.

"Mistress sent Mana to help Master Draco dress for tonight. Master Draco must dress now!"

Draco waved a hand dismissively. "I can dress myself."

The Elf wrung her hands, distressed that he was not cooperating.

"Leave me!" Draco ordered. Mana quickly bowed and disappeared with a quiet _pop!_

Draco rubbed his hands over his face, half regretting the decision to drink the Dreamless Sleep potion. He always forgot the fog that clouded his mind afterwards. Nevertheless, some nightmares were too much of a reality to cope with without it.

He pulled himself out of his bed, stumbling towards the closet. He picked out the first dress robes that he laid his hands on; his robes only deviated in colour, not style. He shrugged off his sweater and pants, and buttoned his crisp white shirt with deft fingers. Draco tucked it into his charcoal pants and bent down to lace his polished dress shoes. He threw the matching charcoal robe over his arm and strode into the bathroom, noting the clean sink. He ran a comb threw his hair and pulled on his robe, smoothing the lapels while frowning slightly as he scrutinised his appearance. It would do.

Draco was about to leave when his eye caught the potion bottle by his bed. He swiftly returned it to the drawer where he kept it hidden – Narcissa would not accept anything less than perfection from her only son.


	8. Arrangements

**Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, merely the situations they find themselves in.**

**Let Dead Men Lie 08 – Arrangements**

* * *

"There you are, darling!" Narcissa smiled as Draco descended the staircase into the foyer. She held out her hand and looked at him expectantly.

"You look exquisite, Mother." Draco supplied helpfully, taking her offered hand. It was true; his mother was a beautiful woman, and the forest green outfit only accentuated her loveliness. Her velvet dress gently skimmed the floor; pearl beads flowing across the waist and skirt, contrasting against the deep green fabric. Her long silver hair was captured in an intricate braid, allowing the delicate pearl earrings to be seen dangling from her earlobes. Narcissa glowed at the compliment, squeezing his hand briefly before tucking her own into the crook of her husband's elbow.

Draco caught a glimpse of the family in the ornate mirror dominating the far wall and, as always, was struck by how cohesive they looked. Draco and Lucius looked almost identical except for the colour of their robes and the length of their hair. Narcissa was the jewel between them, beautiful and cold to those who did not know her personally.

"Shall we wait in the Drawing Room, my love?" Narcissa asked Lucius. "I'm sure Draco would like to meet his friend personally." His parents left the foyer.

Draco sighed inaudibly, fidgeting slightly. His only consolation was that Pansy wouldn't be tardy – with the temptation of a Malfoy-Parkinson arrangement hanging over them, her mother wouldn't let her jeopardise it by being even a minute late.

He didn't have to wait long. A loud bell tolled through the foyer, alerting the Manor that a guest had Aparated onto the grounds. Draco waited for a heartbeat before he opened the huge doors, greeting a gust of frigid air and a black haired witch.

"Long time, no see." Pansy smiled at him with small white teeth.

An albino peacock eyed him beadily from its perch on the hedge bordering the driveway. Draco ignored it. "Please, come inside." He said cordially.

Pansy ascended the stone steps and entered the foyer, trying unsuccessfully to hide a shiver that shook her body.

"Are you cold?" Draco smirked, easily falling back into habits of his youth. "You'll warm up soon enough, the Manor has extensive heating charms. Although, Pansy, no coat and that dress? I'm not surprised you're freezing." A faint flush coloured her cheeks as Pansy blushed at his attention.

Draco met her eyes. "Don't be coy, Parkinson. You and I both know that it doesn't work on me. Save it for my parents."

Pansy small smile widened into a cheeky grin. "Charming as always, Draco. I see you haven't changed much."

"I see you have, Parkinson." Draco drawled. "Finally grew into your nose."

"You flatter me, Draco, you really do." Pansy purred as she moved past him, glancing back over her shoulder and fluttering her eyelashes.

Draco made a point of rolling his eyes before offering his arm. She slipped her arm through his and he led them into the Drawing Room. His parents were seated by the window, chatting amicably.

Lucius rose to his feet when Pansy entered the room – formalities were a staple of the Malfoy household. "Miss Parkinson," he greeted her, taking her hand and placing a chaste kiss on it. Draco barely held back a snort. Narcissa caught his gaze and narrowed her eyes slightly. Merlin, he'd pay for that one later.

"Mister Malfoy," Pansy smiled sweetly. She turned to Narcissa, deepening her dimples.

His mother rose from her seat, taking Pansy's hands in her own and smiled fondly at the young woman. Yes, she'd do. "Welcome, dear"

"Missus Malfoy, your home is absolutely breathtaking." Pansy gushed.

"Please, my dear, call me Narcissa. No formalities are needed here – you've been Draco's friend for an age; however, it astounds me that I haven't had the pleasure of your company over the recent years."

"Unfortunately, Draco and I fell out of touch since graduating Hogwarts." Pansy let a reproachful tone come into her voice as she looked sideways at Draco. She was playing this game far too well for his liking. "Oh! I almost forgot! My mother and father send their regards, my mother _especially_. She was wondering how your infamous rose garden is doing this time of year?"

"Absolutely gorgeous, if I may say so myself."

"I will be sure to let her know, she's always been envious of your talent with plants."

"I'm sure Draco would be kind enough to give you a tour of the grounds after dinner."

"Really? That would be lovely, it really would." Pansy smiled sweetly at Draco, dropping the smallest of winks. He shuffled in his seat uncomfortably. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

Pansy shivered, her breath misting in front of her.

"I told you that you'd freeze," Draco snipped gently. "Did you listen? Of course not, you insufferable woman." He shrugged off his robe, used to the piercing cold. "Here, wear this. If you get a cold I'll never hear the end of it." He offered the robe, and she took it gratefully.

She slipped it over her shoulder and relaxed into the warmth the material offered. "Warming charm?"

"I'm not an idiot, Pansy. I knew it would be chilly."

They were meandering along the path that snaked through Narcissa's roses. Twinkling lights illuminated the path, wavering gently in the breeze. Regrettably, it was almost romantic – no doubt his mother's intention.

"I guess we should talk about why I'm really here?" Pansy broke the comfortable silence.

"I was wondering when you'd bring that up." Draco smirked

"Alright," Pansy toyed with the sleeve of the huge robe around her. She pulled him around to face her, peering into his face.

Draco frowned, a little confused. "What is it, Parkinson? Stunned by how flawless I am?"

"Hardly," Pansy scoffed. Her hands shot out and she grabbed the collar of his shirt, tugging his mouth down to meet hers.

Draco pulled away first. "What the Hell, Parkinson?" He was too bewildered to be angry.

She shrugged, pulling the robe closer around herself. "Just testing the water," she commented mildly. "Your technique has gotten better." She smirked. They resumed their slow walk.

"What do you mean, testing the water?" Draco ignored the snipe about his kissing ability.

"I mean exactly that – I'm getting a feel of what being married to you will be like. Will it be friendship, or will it be sex and friendship – or even sex and love?"

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters."

Draco took a deep breath. If he didn't say it now, he would never say it. "Pansy… I don't want to marry you."

"That's great, Draco. I don't want to marry you either, but here we are."

He stopped dead in his tracks, completely floored. "But… What?"

"A bit slow on the uptake, aren't you? Pansy rolled her eyes. "I don't know how much more clearly I can say it – I don't want to marry you." She pronounced each word as though she were talking to an infant.

Draco was still trying to grasp the concept that he wasn't wanted. "I don't… Why not?"

She laughed. "I never thought I see the day when the unflappable Draco Malfoy was speechless. Oh, you've made my night." Pansy tried unsuccessfully to compose herself, a stray giggle still making its way into her voice. "I don't want to marry you because I don't love you. Merlin, it's been so long that I can't say truthfully whether I even _like _you anymore."

"But in the foyer…"

"It was expected! Don't get me wrong, I still find you attractive – who couldn't? But could I contemplate spending the rest of my life as your dutiful wife? Oh Merlin, no!" Pansy took his hand in hers. "But it's what we're going to do, whether we like it or not. It's part of our job as heirs to a wealthy family. We've got to carry on the family line. We'll get married, I'll get pregnant and wish upon a falling star that it's a boy; and that'll be the end of it, if you want. You don't have to have any more to do with me apart from keeping up social appearances."

"That's a very bleak outlook, Pansy."

"What other choice do we have?"

He contemplated that for a few steps. "We could refuse?"

Pansy chuckled. "Sure, sure. You go ahead and let me know how that turns out. I, for one, do not want to be on the receiving end of my fathers' temper."

He sighed heavily. "It's not fair."

"I can't believe you just said that. You, Draco Malfoy, complaining that your life isn't fair! Oh, that is _rich_. When has life been anything but a walk in the park for you?"

"You don't know half of what I've had to do." He said darkly

"Oh, please. Do you think that I'm blind, deaf and dumb? I am completely aware of what you had to do for the Dark Lord. That's half the reason our families are pushing this engagement. Your mother securing clemency for your family by betraying Him at the eleventh hour isn't enough anymore. I've been listening to the magical grapevine, Draco. People are talking, murmuring about how you and your father have locked yourselves away in your Manor. They think you're planning something, another uprising or whatever. If you were to get married, to a respectable family, those rumours wouldn't have a leg to stand on. My family was never convicted, I'm safe. If you don't marry me, or someone like me, you go directly to jail. Do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars."

"That's complete nonsense." Draco scuffed his feet on the path.

"Daphne Greengrass has a cousin who's a Squib. It's a Muggle phrase." Pansy shrugged. "It may be silly but the gist of it holds true."

They walked to the edge of the garden in silence, neither seeing the beautiful flowers around them.

Pansy was right. What other choice did they have?

* * *

** I know that it's all from Draco's point of view lately, and for those who are holding out for Ginny - it won't be long! I promise. As always, a small thank you to those who reviewed: marinka, Katereena, Magali, xxBabyT-ranxx, purple389, .StarKid, orangepigeon19, and icebabesfire. Really, thank you. **


	9. Eye of the Storm

**Disclaimer: These characters are works of JK Rowling's imagination, not mine.**

**09 Let Dead Men Lie - Eye of the Storm.**

* * *

Ginny tossed and turned in her bed, trying valiantly to get comfortable. The rain was keeping her awake. Normally, she found the rhythmic pounding on her window soothing, but apparently tonight was an exception to the rule. She rolled over onto her side and checked the clock beside her for what felt like the umpteenth time.

2.13am.

Ginny narrowed her eyes. The damned thing almost looked cheerful, happily proclaiming the ungodly hour at which she was awake. Letting out an audible groan, she petulantly flopped back onto her back, glaring at the ceiling. She closed her eyes against the dark room and tried counting her breaths.

2.17am.

Fuck you, clock.

Ginny propped herself up onto her elbows, giving up on the idea of sleep. It just wasn't going to happen, not tonight. She reached over and flicked the light on, squinting as she was blinded by the sudden influx of light. Throwing back the covers and tugging free the dressing gown that was trying to commit suicide in the gap between her bed and the wall, Ginny got up. She crept down the hallway and into the kitchen, being careful not to make too much noise. Hermione was a notoriously light sleeper.

Sipping a glass of water, Ginny stared at the cone of light streaming from the street lamp outside. The rain had calmed down into a light drizzle, allowing fog to lazily rise from the drenched road. Her mouth quirked into a grin; it was almost poetic. Gently setting the glass down in the sink, Ginny leant against the bench. What are we going to do tonight, Ginevra? You've got over 3 hours before you have to be at work.

Brown eyes drifted toward the window again as tendrils of a very bad idea curled their way into her mind.

She tiptoed back into her room, and carefully pulled a jacket and a pair of tired boots out of her wardrobe. She tossed her dressing gown on the bed and contemplated briefly whether to change her clothes, looking down at her button up pyjama shirt and track pants. Dismissing the idea, Ginny fished a knobbly woollen jumper out of the washing basket and pulled it over her head, forcing her red curls into a rough ponytail. Crouching down to lace up her boots, she reached under her bed and quietly pulled her broom towards her. After quickly transfiguring a lone sock into the other half of a pair of gloves, she tucked her wand into an inside pocket and slowly opened her window. It gave way with a noticeable squeak, allowing a gust of frosty air to flow into the room. Ginny climbed half out of the window, tossing her broom onto the ground. She followed it, landing with a soft _thump_.

"Up," she whispered. The broom obediently rose into her gloved hand. Ginny threw her leg over it and kicked off the sodden ground, soaring into the night sky. The air was freezing on her skin and she could practically feel the ice forming on her cheeks. A laugh escaped as she grinned like a madwoman, her only concrete thought the broom beneath her and the air that chilled her to her bones.

* * *

It was the murmurs that woke her. Who was in her bedroom? And why didn't they have the common courtesy to be quiet? Ginny cracked her eyes open in spite of the blinding headache. An unfamiliar room greeted her.

Panic made her freeze, aching head forgotten as adrenaline rushed through her veins. She tried to hear the whispered conversation over her pounding heart. Fuck, where was her wand? Ginny swallowed her fear and leapt to her feet. She snatched a lamp off the bedside table as she backed herself against the wall.

The rooms other occupants had the decency to look surprised. The kindly old man took a step towards her, pausing as she lifted the lamp threateningly. His tall companion didn't move.

"Miss Weasley, please put down the lamp." He said softly.

"Where am I?" Ginny demanded in what she hoped was an intimidating voice. "How do you know who I am?"

"Miss Weasley, I'm not going to hurt you." He had eyes that reminded her of Dumbledore.

"Where am I?" She repeated.

"You're safe," his face crinkled into a sympathetic smile. "I can understand your confusion,"

"Who are you?"

"Hippocrates Smethwyck. I'm a Healer."

"_I'm_ a Healer," Ginny frowned, "and I don't know you."

"I'm retired, Miss Weasley. Now, can you please put down the lamp?"

Ginny looked down at the lamp in her hand, having forgotten that she was brandishing it as a weapon. She also realised that she was standing in a room of unfamiliar men in nothing but her underwear.

"Fuck!" She swore, dropping the lamp and lunging for the sheet. Smethwyck's companion whipped out his wand and summoned the lamp before it could crash onto the floor. Ginny swaddled herself in the sheet and tried to pretend her cheeks weren't flaming red.

"Tell Mister Malfoy that his guest is awake," Smethwyck said to the dark-haired man behind him. He nodded swiftly and swept out of the room.

"Malfoy?" Ginny was on her feet again.

"Yes, Miss Weasley. You're at Malfoy Manor," He smiled as if there was nothing unusual about his statement.

"What?" She sputtered. "Why?"

"Because you fell off your broom." Draco marched into the room. His face was dark and his eyes were a thunderstorm.

"What?"

"What were you thinking?" Draco yelled.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Ginny clutched the sheet closer to her body.

"Mister Malfoy! You _will_ contain yourself." The iron in Smethwyck's voice made Draco pause. "As your family Healer, I can have you removed."

The blonde narrowed his eyes. "Fine," he spat.

"Good." The old man turned his blue eyes to Ginny, softening as he spoke. "Now, Miss Weasley. I'm going to ask you to hop back into that bed, and I'm going to give you a dose of Pepper Up potion." There was no room for arguments. Ginny meekly climbed back under the covers, tucking them securely around her.

He handed her a steaming glass and she took it reluctantly.

"Drink it," he said sternly, watching her closely as she complied. "Good girl. Mister Malfoy, can I trust you to be mindful of your behaviour?"

Draco nodded abruptly.

Smethwyck turned to Ginny again. "Miss Weasley, I will come back and check on you in a few hours. If you can, I highly suggest you get some sleep." He took the empty glass from her as he left the room.

Draco glowered at her and tensely perched on the edge of the bed. Ginny bit her lip as her ears began to steam.

"What were you thinking?" He repeated his earlier question. His calm tone belied the storm brewing underneath.

"I don't know," Ginny whispered. "I don't know what happened."

"You fell off your broom." He sneered.

"I don't fall off my broom," Ginny countered.

"Apparently, you do." Draco's expression darkened. "What on Earth was going through your mind when you decided to go flying last night, directly after a storm?" He hissed.

"I just needed to get out…"

"Ginny. You were completely frozen. You lost control; the broom got locked in a corkscrew spin. You fell from over sixty meters. If the wards hadn't caught you…" Draco leant in and took hold of her shoulder, gripping it tightly. "You could have _died._" His stomach twisted unpleasantly at the thought.

Ginny blinked. Something clicked inside her mind, springing her into action. "What time is it?"

"What?" Draco frowned, confused by her outburst.

"The time! What time is it?"

Draco checked his watch. "It's half eight, you were unconscious for a while."

"Half eight?" Ginny squealed, scrambling to get up.

"Ginny, what are you doing?"

"I have to go to work!" She looked around her.

"Seriously, Ginny?"

"Yes!" Ginny yelled. "They'll be wondering where I am! I was meant to start at six this morning! Where are my clothes?"

Draco couldn't hold back his smirk. "They were drenched. They're being washed. I'll get Smethwyck to Floo St. Mungo's, he used to work there."

Ginny started to follow him. Draco pointed at the bed. "Sit down," he ordered.

Ginny grew herself up to her full height. "You can't tell me what to do!"

"No, but you are in my house. And unless you want to meet my mother in nothing but a sheet, I'd suggest you get back into that bed." The door closed behind him with a solid _thud._

Ginny sullenly crawled back onto the bed, pulling her knees to her chest. She rested her chin on them, her head suddenly heavy.

"I lost control." She echoed what Draco had said before, whispering into the empty room.

Of course you lost control. Just look at you. You can't do anything right. You lost control, and you almost died. How pathetic. You couldn't even do that properly.

You're wretched.

You're nothing.

The voice inside her head continued to berate her long after her words had faded. Ginny tried not to listen.

* * *

**Apologies for the wait - university is practically a sponge on my free time, at the moment. In saying that, please don't expect anything new until December (final exams and all that.) **


	10. Mother's Love

**Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, credit them to JK Rowling.**

**10 Let Dead Men Lie – Mother's Love.**

* * *

Draco tapped lightly on the door to his mother's sunroom.

"Come in," rang the melodious response.

"How is the girl?" Narcissa was cradling a steaming cup of tea, wearing the morning sunlight like a warm blanket.

"Awake," Draco perched on the corner of the couch. "More than a little shaken, but she's fine. Smethwyck has given her a couple of doses of Pepper Up to ward off any sickness she may have been exposed too."

"When will she be leaving?"

That caught Draco by surprise. "What?"

His mother sent him a disapproving look.

"Excuse me?" He amended quickly.

"If the girl is fine, and you have assured me that she is, I see no reason for her to remain under my roof." Narcissa blew on her tea, sending spirals of steam into the sunlit air.

"Mother, please, be reasonable."

"Her family is no friend of mine, darling. I do not see why I should be charitable to her when her family has given us nothing but grief."

Realising quickly that this was a battle he could not win easily, Draco allowed the subject to slide. Merlin, he couldn't explain to himself the need for Ginny to stay, let alone explain it to his mother.

"While I remember; please don't abuse Smethwyck's services, darling. He is a useful, old friend, and I'd like to keep him like that."

"Of course, Mother. Have you heard anything from the Parkinson's?" He asked, steering the conversation away from the redheaded witch.

His mother's nose twitched imperceptibly. "Yes,"

"Bad news?" Draco dared to hope.

"Hardly. There is little you could do to jeopardise such a social-climbing opportunity for the Parkinson girl." Narcissa said stiffly. "Not for your apparent want of trying, I might add."

Draco ignored the jibe. "What vexes you, then?"

"Madam Parkinson did not take kindly to her daughter's evening being so rudely interrupted by a fainted witch."

"Ah," he cringed internally. "In Ginny's defence, it was in the early hours of the morning."

"In her defence, Draco?" Narcissa allowed a frown to mar her features.

"It's a figure of speech, Mother. I just meant –"

"Frankly, my darling, I don't care what you meant." Narcissa almost snarled at her son. "Pansy left our home in a state of distress. I, for one, would not be sympathetic if similar treatment had befallen you."

Draco shifted his weight, unsure of what to say.

"Floo Pansy, Draco." Narcissa ordered. "I will not allow that Weasley witch to ruin this for you."

"Ruin it for me, Mother? Or for you?" Draco didn't realise that he was articulating his thoughts until the words were out of his mouth. Oh fuck.

Narcissa narrowed her eyes, her lips tightening into a thin line. "Don't test me, Draco." She murmured dangerously.

Her son swallowed roughly and turned on his heel, practically fleeing the room.

She watched him leave, a breath hissing between her teeth. A foul mood settled around her, and Narcissa lost interest in her previously anticipated morning tea. She disdainfully watched the pathetic remnants of steam curl around the lip of the cup as she contemplated her situation, drawing her silk robe around her shoulders.

* * *

She flew into the guest wing, startling the redheaded witch that was dozing quietly.

"Missus Malfoy…" Ginny mumbled as she got her bearings once again.

"Miss Weasley. I don't believe we've been properly introduced." Narcissa said graciously, offering a hand. Ginny took it uncertainly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, then" Ginny said quietly.

"Charmed, I'm sure." Narcissa waved her wand, summoning a chair beside the bed. "I understand you had quite an interesting night. We certainly have." Her tone was polite, but her guest could hear an undertone that was not so accommodating.

"Um, yes. Sorry about that…"

"I'm sure you are, dear. But no matter, here you are. So tell me, what possessed you to participate in such an idiotic motion?"

"I'm not sure, if I'm honest. I just… thought it would be a good idea."

"Obviously not." Narcissa tsk-ed. "How long were you flying for?"

"I couldn't tell you."

"Miss Weasley, do you often go flying for undetermined lengths of time at freezing temperatures?"

Ginny had the sneakiest suspicion that she was being insulted. "No, I don't make a habit of it." A sliver of strength crept into her voice.

"I'm sure you don't." Narcissa dimpled a smile that was a fraction too sweet. "An esteemed Healer at St. Mungo's would know better, no doubt."

"I'm sorry, but how do you know where I work?" Ginny frowned.

"You are my guest. I have an obligation to know about the people that linger under my roof."

"Again, I'm sorry. I'll be leaving as soon as I can." She felt her temper rising beneath the surface.

Ginny met the older witch's gaze, her indignation not allowing her to buckle. The sweetness quickly left Narcissa's face.

"If I may ask you frankly, Miss Weasley, what are your intentions with my son?"

"Excuse me?" Ginny spluttered, a little too quickly. "I have no _intentions_!"

"Are you sure, Miss Weasley? Am I to believe that you landed on my manor out of sheer, dumb luck?"

"Yes! It was an accident."

"Forgive me, dear, but I find that hard to believe." Her lips curled into smile that showed too much teeth.

Ginny clenched her jaw, not trusting herself to keep a civil tongue.

Narcissa leant in, pinning Ginny with her gaze. "Keep away from my son, Miss Weasley." She sneered. "I will not allow you to ruin his prospects."

"Oh, please," Ginny scoffed, no longer interested in being bullied. "Tell your precious son to keep away from me!"

Narcissa's eyes widened as she processed the unexpected information.

The uncomfortable conversation was interrupted by a solid knock at the door.

"Yes?" Ginny called, thankful for the reprieve.

"Just checking to see if you needed anything," Draco looked cautiously at his mother. "I didn't realise you had company."

"Miss Weasley and I were just having an enlightening chat." Narcissa rose gracefully from the chair, not bothering to look at her guest as she left the room.

Draco forced a smile as his mother telegraphed a look that indicated she knew too much for his liking.

A small grimace played over Narcissa's lips as she strode down the hallway. This was not good.


	11. Free-Falling

**Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, as much as I wished I did.**

**11 Let Dead Men Lie – Free-Falling**

* * *

"Sorry about that," Draco said awkwardly as he closed the door behind him.

"Is she always that awful?" Ginny muttered, still seething from the encounter.

"She's not awful." Draco countered immediately.

Ginny raised her eyebrows sceptically.

"She can be… a little insensitive," He amended, occupying the vacated chair. "But she has good intentions."

"I think I should go." Ginny stated. She couldn't stand being in the huge, poisonous house; as much as it irked her that she was giving into Narcissa.

Draco was quiet for a moment. "I don't think you should."

"Why?" The question was almost a challenge.

"You haven't got the all-clear from Smethwyck yet," Draco offered lamely.

"I'm sick of being coddled." Ginny rolled her eyes. "Tell me something true, for once."

"That is true," He hedged.

She held his eyes for a heartbeat, a small sigh escaping her. "You haven't changed, have you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're still hiding." The simple statement was devastating to say out-loud.

"So are you," Draco countered, surprising the woman who looked so small in the bed beside him. He watched the emotions flicker across her face, the beginnings of a minuscule smile finally emerging. It was as precious to him as a sunbeam was to a winter ravaged flower.

They sat for a while, a familiar silence settling around them.

In a bold gesture, Draco scooped up her hand.

"I think we need some fresh air," He tugged her upright, the sheet dropping to her waist.

"Draco!" Ginny squealed. "I'm still in my underwear!"

"Sorry," Draco drawled, his tone anything but apologetic. "I completely forgot. I'll find you some clothes." He unsuccessfully hid his smirk.

Ginny refused to meet his eyes, uncertain of what she would find in their depths.

* * *

The polite knock on the door announced Draco's return. Ginny tucked the sheet securely around her, determined not to have a repeat performance. He tossed a bundle of clothes onto the bed, smirking as she examined the contents.

"What happened to my clothes?"

"I didn't realise you wanted them," Draco mocked lightly. "It was quite an _eclectic_ mix."

Ginny glared at him. "Are you going to leave while I change, or not?"

"It's not like I haven't seen it all before," Draco muttered as he left the room.

Ginny rolled her eyes as she threw back the covers. She buckled the jeans around her waist, thanking her mother's foresight to teach her a solid altering charm. She inspected the shirt, giggling quietly when she saw the Slytherin crest embroidered onto the breast pocket. She gently fingered the buttons, memories crashing over her.

"Oi!" Ginny exclaimed as Draco entered the room unannounced.

"You were taking too long," he smirked, eyes drinking in the sight of her. "That shirt always looked better on you."

"Boobs tend to have that influence on clothing," Ginny joked. "Where are we going?"

"Well, I was thinking – maybe you'd like to wander around the gardens with me?" There was something hidden behind his casual invitation that Ginny couldn't place.

"Sure, as long as it's not a date." She jested, not noticing the way his smile dropped a fraction.

She fell into step beside him as he directed them through the maze of hallways, leaving her in no doubt that by herself, she would get lost in record time.

"Here we are," Draco opened the heavy door with a flourish.

"It's lovely," Ginny gasped as she absorbed the colours that cascaded over the grounds. She walked into the warm sunshine, shading her eyes as they adjusted to the brightness.

Draco watched her venture into the garden, struck by how her hair gleamed copper in the sun. His eyes dropped to the curve of her waist. He followed the line of her hip, lingering on the way the jeans hugged her derrière. Snapping his attention away from her swaying hips, Draco followed her into the fragrant air.

"I didn't know so many flowers bloomed in the autumn." Ginny commented, gently caressing a bud as she wandered past.

"I think Mother cheats a bit," Draco smirked. "But don't tell anyone."

Ginny couldn't help the grin that crept over her cheeks.

They wandered along in a comfortable silence, neither wanting to break the tentative companionship.

"You have a lake?" Ginny exclaimed, not knowing why she was remotely surprised.

"Do you want to go swimming?" Draco asked. The water rippled invitingly.

"No way. It'll be freezing!" Her hands rested on her hips. "And weren't you supposed to be concerned about my health?"

Draco grinned cheekily. With a swift push, Ginny was flailing into the water.

Ginny gasped raggedly as her head broke the surface. "Oh, it's lukewarm."

Draco cocked an eyebrow. "Of course it is. Did you expect anything less?"

Ginny narrowed her eyes, launching over the bank and grabbing his ankle.

"Hey!" Draco spluttered. "This is a nice shirt!"

"Shouldn't have pushed me in, then." Ginny splashed the charmed water into his face.

"Are you challenging me, Weasley?" Draco drawled, swimming dangerously close.

"No! Don't!" She cried out before she was unceremoniously dunked.

Coughs racked her body as she raised her palms in surrender.

Draco looped an arm around her waist for support. "Swallow too much water?"

Ginny unsuccessfully tried to glare at him.

He pulled her onto the embankment, making an effort not to stare at the way the drenched clothes clung to her body.

"Sorry," Draco apologised sheepishly. "It was a stupid idea." He cast a drying charm on them both before a breeze could chill them to their bones.

They sat under a bowed willow tree, watching the wind play across the water.

"I didn't realise how much I'd missed this," Ginny said quietly.

"Miss what?"

"Being with you. It was always different when I was with you."

"Good different or bad different?" Draco asked nonchalantly, fiddled with a dangling twig.

"Good different," Ginny flushed awkwardly. "I didn't have to be Ron's Little Sister. When I was with you, I knew that you were seeing me for the person I was."

She cringed internally at the pregnant pause, scolding herself for giving too much away and letting old feelings cloud her judgement.

"You know, when I was with you," Draco finally spoke, "I didn't have to pretend either."

The confession came a second too late. Ginny had drawn the shades around her inner most part.

"It would've been nicer if you hadn't ruined everything." Her words struck Draco in the chest.

He rushed to catch up with her. "Ginny, stop it."

"Stop what?" She pretended to be indifferent.

"I made a mistake, I get it. A huge, shattering mistake. But that's who I was, not who I am trying to be." He took a steadying breath. "I'm trying to be a better man." Like you always believed I could.

She faced him, eyes piercing him. "Are you?"

"Yes."

An uncomfortable pause filled the space between them, pushing them towards a conversation that they needed to have.

"I hated you for leaving." Ginny muttered.

"I hated myself." Draco told her something true. It resonated in her soul, breaking her heart.

She held out a quivering hand. Draco enfolded it in his, holding it tightly.

"I won't let you fall." Draco promised.

I trust you, Ginny whispered in her heart. She dropped his hand, not ready to say it out loud.


	12. Under The Cover of Dusk

**Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. **

**12 Let Dead Men Lie – Under the Cover of Dusk**

* * *

"Miss Weasley, I can safely say you are in good health." Smethwyck chirped before leaning closer, murmuring into her ear. "A touch underweight, perhaps." His features dropped into a knowing look.

Ginny absorbed the pointed comment. "Thank you, sir."

The elderly Healer patted her gently on the knee before bustling out of the room. His dark-haired assistant followed him without a word.

"Who is he?" Ginny asked, watching the two men leave.

"Smethwyck's replacement. He'll be the family Healer when the old man actually retires." Draco closed the door behind them, venturing closer to the witch.

They sat in silence for a moment, savouring the tentative friendship that draped over them.

"I can't remember if I ever asked you, but what happened to my broom?"

Draco smirked. "It wasn't as lucky as you."

"Bloody Hell," Ginny swore.

"You can have one of mine, if you want." Draco offered suddenly, surprising himself with the charitable offer.

"No way, I couldn't!" Her family would kill her if they knew she'd taken anything from the Malfoy's.

"Ginny, honestly. A new model was released the other day; I was going to replace it anyway." He lied to make it easier for her.

It would be rude - so rude _not_ to accept, she reasoned. She cloaked her face in what she hoped was reluctance, stamping down the excitement that threatened to burst through her façade.

Draco strode across the room, letting a whisper of a grin wash over his lips. "Are you coming, or not?" He called from the hallway.

Ginny supressed a giggle, chasing him through the maze of corridors as he led the way.

He opened the door to cavernous stone room, and she couldn't help the gasp that escaped her lips.

"Merlin, Draco." Awe was written clearly over her face. "It's like a bloody shop in here!"

She stared the wall lined with red Quaffles, squirming Bludgers and fluttering Snitches; her mouth dropping as she recognised the grey and white jersey proudly displayed on the far wall.

"You have a set of Falmouth Falcon robes?" Ginny had ceased being surprised at the blatant shows of wealth.

"Originals, too." Draco smirked. "Father is a stout supporter. Brooms are that way." He pointed to the large cupboard against the wall.

Ginny practically ran across the room and wrenched the door off its hinges.

"Oh," She whispered, the wonder filling her eyes and making them glow. She hungrily drank in the gleam of the neatly lined broomsticks as she ran her fingers over the polished wood.

"Want to take one for a test run?" He startled her by being so close, she hadn't heard him move.

"As if that's even a question," Ginny enthused, pretending that her heart was beating faster from the scare.

"Well, hurry up!" He smirked as he grabbed the nearest boom before darting out the door.

She bolted after him so fast she wasn't sure her feet touched the ground. He was already in the air when she broke into the sunlight, lazily circling her from above the rooftop.

"You'd better get a move on if you want a chance of winning," she called out, leaping onto the broom and rising to his altitude. She could see the confusion flickering over his chiselled features.

"Winning what?" He asked, clarity beginning to dawn on him.

"The race!" Ginny called over her shoulder, shooting into the air.

"You little witch-" The trail of Draco's outrage was carried away on by a breeze as she urged the boom to go faster. The thing was a delight to fly, responding to her slightest touch. As a child, she had literally dreamt of flying something so magnificent.

She was knocked off course by a flash of platinum blonde hair.

"Ferret!"

Ginny flattened herself to the broom, streamlining her body. There was absolutely no chance that she was letting him win. She slowly closed the gap, every fibre of her being screaming for the broom to go faster still. And miraculously, it did.

"I won!" she squealed as the broom inched past her opponents.

She could practically _feel_ him rolling his eyes.

They slowed to a more reasonable speed, enjoying the feeling of the wind rushing past.

"That race was a joke."

"Are you just bitter because you lost?" Ginny teased.

"Of course not." Draco denied venomously.

Still reeling from the endorphins, Ginny happily threw herself into a loop-the-loop. "Admit it, you had fun."

They moved in sync for a while, flying with no destination in mind.

"You're a pretty good flier, for a Weasley." Draco allowed, however begrudgingly.

"That's pretty generous, for a Malfoy." She retorted. "Where are we, anyway?"

Draco peered over the rolling hills. "Somewhere over Oxfordshire, by the looks of it."

"Seriously?" Ginny veered violently as she stared down at the vibrant green landscape.

"Steady," Draco cautioned. "There's no wards to catch you this time."

"I don't fall," Ginny said snidely, hoping she came across as haughty.

"The splintered remains of your own broom tell me otherwise." Draco let the jibe drift towards her.

"Yeah, well." Ginny muttered, kicking the casual speed up in retaliation. "It's not like you've never done something stupid." Although she heavily doubted it.

"We should probably head back, if we've gone this far."

"Already?" She couldn't help the regret that seeped into her voice.

"Come on," Draco took a sharp left after studying the landscape intently.

* * *

She stepped off the broom and winced.

"God, I have not missed that." She grumbled, rubbing her backside gingerly.

Draco chuckled, trying valiantly not to stare.

"Been a while since you've spent the better part of an afternoon on a broom?"

"Can you tell?"

"No, not at all." Draco kept his face blank.

Ginny scrunched her nose at him, turning her face to the fading sunlight. "Made it just in time."

He watched the vanishing daylight caress her face for a moment before deciding that the gentle glow suited her.

"Ginny…" He started, before losing the words.

She turned to face him, her hair becoming a flaming halo floating around her.

"Don't, Draco." She smiled grimly. "Whatever it is, I don't want it to ruin this."

He outstretched his hand instead.

"I've had a really good day with you," Ginny said softly, eyes fixed on their interlocked fingers. Draco tucked a wayward lock behind her ear, the softness of her hair echoing in a distant memory.

He brushed his knuckles against the curve of her cheek as she smiled, and under the cover of dusk Draco stole the briefest of kisses.

* * *

**I am so embarrassed with how long it took me to write this chapter, and I apologise to every one who waited. In a positive light, my final year of uni starts next week - and I always find myself more inclined to write when I'm procrastinating! **

**Thank-you to Katereena, Marinka, SamanthaSparklesInTheSun, DD, Purple389, Icebabesfire, Orangepigeon19, DreamerDancerStarkid , Magali, xxBabyT-ranxx, and Anon (who never leaves their name) for the ongoing encouragement. It is honestly, and deeply, appreciated.**


	13. One Half

**Disclaimer: I don't own these characters.**

**13 Let Dead Men Lie – One Half.**

* * *

"Ginevra Weasley, where in Merlin's name have you been?" Molly Weasley thundered as her daughter cowered at the kitchen table. "I have to be told by one of your colleagues that you never showed up for work, and Hermione has no idea where you are? She told me that you slipped out in the middle of the night and didn't leave a note!"

Ginny winced as her mother angrily slammed a mug of tea on the table in front of her. "Mum, I –"

"Gone all night and gone all day? And then you go and show up on my doorstep in clothes that you don't own and in a _Slytherin _shirt, of all things! What am I meant to think, hmm?"

There was nothing she could do or say until Molly calmed down. Her only choice was to ride out the storm.

"You're my only daughter, Ginny, and I'll be damned if I'm having another six boys if anything happens to you. Merlin, help me! I always thought you had a good head on your shoulders, girl. I never thought you would prove me so wrong. I was practically sick with worry, do you hear?"

Eventually, Molly slammed herself into a chair, exhausted from her lecture.

Ginny turned the warm mug in her hands. "Please don't be mad at me, Mum."

"That depends on what else you've done, other than gallivanting off into the middle of the night."

"There's a boy." Ginny whispered.

"A boy?" Molly arched her eyebrow. "You nearly gave me a heart attack - for a boy?"

"Mum, there's always been a boy. The same boy, actually."

"Explain." She pierced her daughter with a sharp stare, and Ginny was eerily reminded of Narcissa.

"I don't know how." She muttered as she sipped her tea. "I just… It happened, and I didn't mean for it to, but it did."

Molly was as pale as a sheet. "Ginny, are you pregnant?"

"No," Ginny laughed harshly. "Although, that would probably be easier for you and Dad to stomach."

"Then what happened?"

"Draco Malfoy," Ginny braced herself for the blow.

It didn't come. Molly was watching her daughter with pensive eyes.

"Didn't you hear me?" Ginny spat. "I said, Draco—"

"I heard you," Molly interrupted quietly.

"Then why aren't you yelling?"

Molly sighed. "What am I going to tell you, love? That the family is rotten to the core? That nothing good can come of associating with them? No, I suspect you already know that. I also expect that there is more to this than Draco Malfoy materialising from thin air." She covered her daughters' cold hand with her warm ones. "Talk to me, sweetheart."

"I don't know what I can say, Mummy."

"Just start at the beginning."

So she did.

* * *

"He's just like me; he doesn't know where he fits into the world. But he's not his father, Mum. Not by a long shot. He cares."

"Cares about you?"

"I didn't mean that – but, yeah, I think he does."

"And he makes you happy?" Molly's tone was resigned.

"I can't answer that, not yet. When I'm with him, it's like nothing else exists. But he left me once, who's to say he won't do it again? I was so _broken_ by it the first time, I don't know if I could stand it again." Ginny swirled the dregs of her tea, not able to meet her mother's gaze.

Molly took the empty mug, dropping it lightly into the sink. An enchanted sponge happily took responsibility.

"Sweetheart, sometimes you have to take the chance."

"You're okay… with it?" Ginny hesitated.

"Not at all, love. But there's not much I can do about it. I know you far too well to delude myself by thinking that you'll give it up because I don't approve." Molly crinkled a smile. "Now, wash your face and put on some different clothes, your father will be home soon and I don't think you want his opinion on this."

Ginny nodded and wandered up the stairs, pausing at her old room. It had been left untouched. Faded posters of the Holyhead Harpies waved wearily at her as she smoothed their curling corners. She watched the sluggish movement of her childhood hero for a few moments, before pushing her bed frame off the loose floorboard. She tugged out an old diary, flicking through the tattered pages.

"_Dear diary – I hope you don't talk back." _End of her first year at Hogwarts.

"_The Yule Ball was surprisingly good. Neville is such a nice guy, never would have picked him for a dancer though –" _Third year.

"_Harry – oh! Sulking away because Moody said he might be possessed. The bloody sook could at least talk to me about it, seeing as I've been there." _Fourth year.

"_I ran into Draco Malfoy tonight. I don't think I ever seen someone look so alone." _The first time she met him on the roof.

"_He makes me feel whole." _

Ginny closed the diary against the painful memories that resided in the later pages. She ran her fingers through her hair, finding a few tangles from her flight earlier in the afternoon. Replacing her diary in its hiding place, Ginny tweaked the doona absent-mindedly.

Voices drifted up from downstairs. She hurried across her room, simultaneously stripping and pulling out a pair of faded jeans and a white jumper from her closet. Stuffing the borrowed clothes into the laundry hamper, she took a deep breath and felt substantially more like herself.

* * *

"Where do you want the salad, Mum?" Ginny shouted.

Molly popped her head around the corner. "Just pop it in the middle somewhere, love."

Ginny pursed her lips slightly, surveying the already cluttered table before her. In the middle of the table, oh sure. She rolled her eyes and balanced the bowl in one hand, trying to shuffle some of the overflowing platters to make some room. Carefully placing the bowl in the newly vacant space, Ginny stepped back to admire her handiwork. A _CRACK_ sounded from the front door. George must have arrived.

The stocky red-headed man was readjusting his robe when his little sister tackled him.

"All right, Gin?"

"Yeah," She forced a smile. "I'm alright."

"Mum chew your ear out for the disappearing act?"

"Could you tell?" Ginny sighed in relief at his assumption.

He winked at her, patting her shoulder. "Chin up; she can't be mad at you forever."

She nodded resolutely, following him inside.

The Weasley's had clumped themselves around the dining table, loud chatter filling her family home as they passed the dishes around the table. Ginny positioned herself as far away from Molly as she could – the last thing she wanted was for her mum to notice how little she had on her plate.

Ginny picked at her meal and watched her family, trying to ignore the resoundingly hollow feeling that curled deep inside her stomach.


	14. Take A Stand

**Disclaimer: These are characters of JK Rowlings brilliance, not mine.**

**14 Let Dead Men Lie – Take a Stand.**

* * *

Narcissa glared at her son.

Draco, possibly for the first time in his life, refused to be cowed. "I'm not doing it."

"It's that horrid Weasley girl, isn't it?" Narcissa demanded. "She's put these ideas into your head, no doubt. I knew I should never have let her stay here! We didn't have any problems before she arrived. And then she falls – practically onto our house – and you come away spouting nonsense about wanting to break the engagement! No! I won't allow it!"

"She didn't put any ideas into my head."

"Don't lie to me, Draco!"

"I'm not." He said softly. "I'm not trying to hurt you, Mother."

Narcissa was almost quivering with rage. "Mana!"

The House Elf appeared instantly. "Mistress?" She broached cautiously.

"Fetch Lucius. Tell him I need him urgently!"

The small Elf nodded, vanishing immediately. Narcissa furiously paced her sunroom, shaking her head viciously as she waited. Heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway, and Narcissa could not contain the satisfied smirk that escaped. She would have her way, eventually.

Lucius appeared in the doorway. "What is it, Narcissa?"

"Your son is throwing his life away." She spat.

Lucius rested his gaze on his son. "Explain."

"I'm not marrying Pansy."

"Do you see what I mean? Do something!" Narcissa screeched, outraged.

Lucius watched his son, thunder rolling across his face. "What are you doing?"

"I'm saying no."

"Why?" The cold snarl curled around his father's lips.

"I don't want too." Draco took a deep breath, fixing a red-headed witch firmly in his thoughts. "This isn't how I want to live my life."

"Pray tell, what _do_ you want?"

I want Ginny.

"I want to be happy, Father. I want –"

"You want a fairy tale, Draco." Narcissa sneered.

"Is that so hard to understand?" Her son said quietly.

"What has gotten into you, boy?" Lucius roared. "_My_ son would never be this weak."

"Then I don't want to be your son!" The words were out before he could snatch them back.

Narcissa gasped.

"Get out of my house." Lucius spat out the words, his handsome face contorted with rage.

"No, Lucius, please –" Narcissa forgot her rage, desperate not to lose her son.

"I will not say it again, boy." Lucius was deaf to his wife's plea.

Draco jerked his chin higher. There was no doubt that Lucius was serious. He turned on his heel, unable to meet his mother's frantic gaze.

He practically ran to his room. Breathing deeply, he tried to quell the screaming inside his mind. What in Merlin's name was he thinking? What was he doing? He slammed his door open, desperate to get away from the voices of his parents drifting down the hall. He grasped his head between his hands; and unable to stand, crashed into the wall behind him.

Draco rocked gently, hating himself for feeling.

* * *

"Draco?"

She found him a few hours later by the lake they had played in as children. Pansy gently placed her broom beside Draco's, propping it against the tree. She watched the wind whip his fine hair across his face as he stared out at the churning water, wondering where she could begin.

Pansy dropped on the ground beside him.

"You did it," She said quietly.

"Yeah." His reply was bitter.

"I have to admit, Draco, I didn't think you had it in you."

"I don't." It was all for Ginny. By himself, he didn't have the strength.

"Well, obviously, you do. Otherwise I wouldn't be here, and you wouldn't be nearly as miserable as you are now."

"Are you having fun, Pansy?" Draco spat. "Are you enjoying this?"

"Completely." She said scathingly. "I loved having my mother shrieking that _my_ reputation is ruined because _you_ refused to go through with the engagement – oh, I had a blast. Even better was the punch-in-the-gut of a conversation that I had with my father."

"About what?"

"About how I'd better not ruin the next arrangement, should a worthy suitor look past this debacle."

"How did you ruin it? You had nothing to do with it." Draco couldn't help but feel miffed. How dare she take credit for this? This was his decision.

"I'm meant to ensnare you with my womanly wiles, or something." Pansy sighed heavily. "So even when you're the one who called it off, I still get blamed. Charming, isn't it?"

He shrugged, too absorbed in himself to care.

They sat in silence as clouds raced across the sky. Pansy watched the water lap viciously at the embankment, suddenly swamped by memories. She missed flying between Draco and Blaise, gliding over hard mountain ridges and rolling hills. Thinking back, she couldn't remember if they had ever called themselves friends – their adolescence had revolved around shouting lies so loud that they drowned out the truth: that Draco didn't want his father's approval, or that Pansy didn't need her mother to define her.

She missed feeling invincible.

"Are you going to keep sulking?"

"Parkinson, I was just kicked out of my house. I think I've earned the right." Draco snapped.

"You could do something about it, instead of just sitting there and looking pitiful."

"Like what?"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Like find somewhere to stay, or something equally as helpful."

"What, stay with you?"

"No, I don't like you that much." Pansy scoffed.

"I broke our engagement – something that you had no interest in being a part of."

"And I'm thankful for it, but I still don't like you." Pansy let the smirk play across her features.

He felt a twinge of a smile. "Why are you here, Pans?"

She raised her eyebrow, not meeting his eyes. "I thought you might need someone."

"I don't." Draco lied. It was easier for both of them.


End file.
